


Bent Under the Big Top

by Intrexxt, simplypeterparker (Intrexxt)



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Deaf Clint Barton, Disabled Character, Drug Use, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Medicinal Drug Use, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intrexxt/pseuds/Intrexxt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intrexxt/pseuds/simplypeterparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*HAITUS AND REVISION* <br/>The Circus of Misfits, more commonly known as Marvels Under the Big Top, and the story of simultaneously their greatest and worst season ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day was nice, the sun was hanging out around it’s highest point. Dallying above the lot and the people below. The morning had been quiet. With people returning from jogs and others leaving for a few hours at a side job. Not everyone though, the plot of land held a few people who tended not to stray too far. And the voice of one of these people brought the peace to an abrupt halt.

“Tony!”

A long haired brunet with a metal arm stormed into the small workshop the aforementioned man was in. Metal arm stuck at a sharp angle and covered in paint.

“Let me guess, your arm is acting up again.” Tony said, downing the last of the brown liquid in his tumbler with a roll of his eyes and a flick of the wrist. He set the glass down on a dirty workbench and with a sigh pushed himself closer to the other man on the wheeled stool he’d been sat on. It took less than a split second to figure out what the problem had been, actually he’d know the problem before coming over to the man. And with the look on the others face, he knew as well.

“You know, and this is just a shot in the dark, maybe your arm would work if Spangles stopped using this expensive, intricate prosthesis as his canvas.”

“Why do you call me Spangles?” Someone else had entered the workshop, Spangles himself, Steve. Both Bucky and Tony shifted to look at him. “You’re the only one who calls me that”

He had followed Bucky in after hearing the loud call, slightly embarrassed for being the cause of the mess for the umpteenth time, but the arm looked so bland compared to the illustrated body it was attached to. It just bothered him.

“You are the embodiment of America and your costume is basically a patriot’s wet dream, I don’t know what you were expecting me to call you.”

“You know, I came here to make sure Bucky wasn’t gonna punch you in the face, but now I’m kind of hoping he’ll do it.” Steve was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest like he was expecting a show. He knew the other wouldn’t do anything though. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you and all that, plus he had always been the more violent of the two.

Bucky rolled his eyes at the comment, but he was smiling slightly. However he didn’t say anything about it. It was usually the other way around, many times he’d found Steve in an alleyway fighting a total stranger. He cleaned his act up a bit more after the military though. He decided that now was a good time to bring the conversation back to the original topic, “Can you fix my arm or what?”

“Fix it like the six other times I fixed it?” This wasn’t the first time he had to clean paint out of the panels, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Get a chair.”

It had taken a whole of an hour and a half for Tony to repair the metal arm. During that time Steve had wandered off to go buy paints safe for Bucky’s arm after Tony told him to either buy the paints or new parts for the prosthetic. Buying the paints reminded him that he was running low on ink, he quickly ordered some when he made it back to the lot, planning the newest tattoo for his friend in his head.

Steve Rogers was a miracle, spending most of his younger years scrawny and unable to keep up with the other kids, he fell in love with art. Then he hit a growth spurt of spectacular proportions, growing almost a foot and beefing up much easier, he became more of a health nut due to the majority of medical problems he had prior to the growth spurt and even gained the position of a part-time artist and part-time stuntman. He was made to dress in what closely resembled the American flag as a joke when he first came along, but the fans seemed to love it and it stuck.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes on the other hand wasn’t special in the sense of tremendous growth spurts and strength. But he spent time as a prisoner of war and made it back home, which was more than anyone could ask for and was much better then any growth spurt. At least that’s what Steve said. He became a grinder and a canvas. Showing off his tattoos and talking in the show. He also collected and helped hand out tickets.

Tony Stark however was not a performer like the others. As much as he loved being the center of attention he was the resident mechanic, inventor, and asshole. He helped to create and update Bucky’s arm, the caravans, and Theodor’s, dubbed Thor by everyone, Tesla coils. He managed light and sound and even music. The show couldn’t run without him, and he loved hearing people tell him that.

Across the lot, in the outdoor gym that had been set up ages ago, a lady with bright red hair balanced on a slackline a mere four feet off the ground with a thin gym mat underneath. She would’ve gone higher but that required her to put the net under in case she falls. She wouldn’t fall but Coulson wouldn’t take any chances.

She took a deep breath and started to bounce the mesh line. In one solid movement she flipped and an arrow flew inches from her head. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she still landed on the thin string with grace, like nothing had happened. She looked to her side where Clint stood, a bow in his hand and a quiver at his side, she glared at him halfheartedly.

Dismounting with more finesse than what was necessary she walked up to him, standing barely two feet away. “If you’re going to shoot wear your arm guard and warn your target, Coulson’s rules.”

“If you’re doing flips put up the net and put on your funny shoes, Coulson’s rules.” He replied with a smirk.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly into a smile. She preferred walking the tightrope barefoot, it gave her nasty blisters sometimes but it made her feel more comfortable and more in control. Besides she wasn’t even using the tightrope, she was using a slackline.

“I don’t need shoes, I’m slacklining.” She replied with a challenging look in her eyes, “it’s much easier, you should give it a try.”

Clint immediately threw his hands up, setting the bow down, “nope, nope. The whole walking on string is more your thing and you see I think I might’ve messed up by pinkie toe and they say the pinkie toe is a thing for balance and-- Tasha? No, no, no.” She had, on the most basic level, forced him to get on the slackline. Using both the look in her eyes and a small push in the right direction he was trying to climb on the line.

“Use your knee to climb on. It’s really simple. It’s like a thin trampoline. There we go, find your balance. Baby steps,” she coached him, using a patronizing tone throughout.

“I know how to walk on the-- the damn thing,” Clint was finding talking and keeping from falling on his ass very hard, “doesn’t mean I’m good at it.”

He was a lot better than he put on. He had kept himself on the slackline and was able to take a few more steps before climbing down ungracefully. Natasha gave a few sarcastic claps before turning a bit more serious. “You better start practicing. We’re expected to create a new act soon. People are getting tired of the old one and we’re using slacklines and tightropes.”

“Can’t our act be on the ground? Why does it have to be on a bunch of string? Do I get any say in this?”

She went back to the slackline before replying “No,” and in one quick move she slipped back onto the tightrope.

Natasha Romanov, if that was even her real name, had a past she doesn’t talk about it. . The theories range from her being a young ballerina with the Bolshoi, to her being a secret spy who was assassinating diplomats by the time she was ten. Only one person knows the truth, Clint, and he’s sworn himself to secrecy. Everyone gave up trying to get it out of him ages ago. It wasn’t too hard to avoid question when he could just turn off his hearing aids.

Scattered around the lot were other odds and ends, people who’d found their way to the little place they called home one way or another. This was a family, on the most basic level. They trusted and loved each other, even if they wouldn’t admit it at first.

While not everyone stayed during the off season, there was a certain group of performers and non-performers that stayed the whole year, to them this was home. They were the stars, they practiced year round and were the favorites of Coulson and Fury. They held the circus together with duct tape and shoestrings and just plain hope.

Phil Coulson was the supervisor, he made sure everyone was doing what they should be. He was basically their babysitter and handled all the paperwork, some people would even say that he enjoyed the paperwork. Nick Fury was the director, this was his circus. At least he was the highest up that people could reach, he was strict but caring and tolerated more pirate jokes then he could count, mostly from Tony.

For the most part the dysfunctional, unrelated family worked. Everyone had everyone else’s back. They threw around jokes and insults with the ease of young siblings not under a parent’s watchful, and scolding, eye. Some tended to react like children as well.

By the time the sun hung low and the sky resembled that of an artists palette after a masterpiece something close to a feast had been prepared for them and had been set up on a large wooden table underneath a pitched gazebo. It was a warmer night, so they sat outside and ate. Eating inside a trailer was cramped and stuffy.

Theodor had arrived just in time to eat, receiving the usual greetings of ‘Hey Thor’ and smiles from the group of people he’d come to love. He sat down before anyone else and didn’t waste time before tucking in and starting on the weekly lavish dinner.

Theodor, better known as Thor, works mostly as a construction worker during the off season. Many people enjoy joking about the hammer he carries around on his tool belt. With all the modern technology many simple tools have become unnecessary, but a hammer is always useful.

He tends to come and go as he pleases. If there’s a construction job anywhere near the lot he’ll stay there. If not he’ll always come back until he gets another contract. Luckily enough his boss doesn’t mind the four month long vacation he takes every year to preform.

The one who had made most of the night possible had skipped out. He was a shy man and usually kept to himself. But he was a great help and had cured of everyone of something at least once. He acted as the resident doctor, which was in his title but medicine had never been his true calling. Doctor Bruce Banner, a man with multiple PhD’s and an almost frightening past.

Tony had made him a friend the second they met, at least he tried. They enjoyed each other’s company and lighthearted talk of complex subjects. So when he noticed the man was absent again at the dinners he helped organize it was frustrating. He stood up and went out in search of his curly haired friend.

He found him tucked away in his trailer reading a book and ignoring the world. So he made to ruin the peace with a fake cough. “So being anti-social I see.”

“As per usual,” Bruce replied without much of any emotion. After realizing it was only Tony he’d hoped to get back to his book. Perhaps it’d work this time unlike all the other times. It didn’t. He hadn’t looked up from his book, until there was the familiar sound of a full heavy duty paper plate landing on the table beside him. He held back a smile, peeking over the book.

He looked up to the sight of Tony holding a plate of food for himself. Without asking he sat down in the chair relatively across from Bruce, and started eating. Eventually Bruce put his book down and started eating too. They sat together in near silence, Tony bringing up what he was doing in his workshop every once in a while.The night carried on, everyone on the lot used to neither Tony nor Bruce attending the meals during the off season. However, he made it mandatory when they performed, team bonding and what not.

The night passed in peace, and one by one everyone headed off to bed with quick goodnights. And one Natasha Romanov came upon an email from an old friend, and after typing in a quick reply she too fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Bucky? Bucky?!” The drumming of steady bullets and frequent explosions drowned out the shouting of the crawling man. “Bucky!?” He was breathing hard as he stumbled to his feet on the lopsided, wet ground, completely foregoing his training and nearly twisting his ankle with his efforts. He was seconds away from sprinting into the spray of bullets in search of his friend when he was forced down to the ground from pulling near his calfs. He hit hard and was trying to get back up the second after. He wasn’t aware of who grounded him, and even though it would only be a simple motion to check, he didn’t care. He ignored the cold mud on his uniform and the wetness that seeped passed it. He kicked and tried to force his way out as the stranger crawled up his body, reaching his shoulders and restraining him. Why couldn’t he get free? The stranger was grappling him and holding him hard against the ground. He was struggling, kicking and elbowing but the stranger would not give. He had been overpowered, he had been held so tightly and perfectly that he couldn’t move if he tried. He ignored the repeating of his name, steadily getting louder. He had to find Bucky, he needed to find Bucky. Where the hell was Bucky? Then there was knocking, and bullets. Then steady, louder, familiar knocking. The sound of steady gunfire mixed with the knocking, then soon become the knocking. And then there were no more bullets._

Natasha had come by the door for their morning run, she always woke up first, and she went around waking up the rest. The pattern tended to be that she woke up Steve, and Steve forced Bucky up while Natasha tended to Sam. Thor would join them if he wasn’t busy, which he was today. She had heard the struggling, the sounds of sheets moving erratically inside the trailer. She knew Steve suffered from nightmares almost consistently, but she still didn’t like to hear it. No one wanted to hear their friend suffering. She knocked on the door hoping it would be enough to wake him. It was, he was a light sleeper.

He had opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath and calmed his rapidly beating heart, placing a hand across his chest as if that would help. He knew who was at the door. Only one person would be at his door at this hour, over half the lot could easily be awake for whatever reason. He slipped from bed and answered the door, promising that he’d be out in a few minutes after he changed. He knew Natasha had heard him struggling, and was beyond grateful that she didn’t say anything. With a quick nod she turned around and started towards Sam’s trailer, which wasn’t too far. He was always easy to wake up, a quick knock or two and maybe a nudge if he was feeling particularly lazy. And he never slept through his own nightmares.

Steve quickly went into the small bathroom and stripped down, throwing on some workout clothes after. They’d all run to the gym together for a good couple hour workout before heading back to the lot to start their day. He ran a few fingers through his hair to comb the sleep out of it and make sure he looked at least halfway decent enough, in a tiny handheld mirror before going to wake up Bucky. Who, unlike Steve was a very heavy sleeper. They didn’t have any wall mounted mirrors in the trailer, they’d been removed. Within a few strides he was standing beside his own bed and came to face the side of a sleeping Buck.

Upon first joining the circus full-time they each had their own nicely sized trailer. But they had grown up together in poverty as well as joined the military together. Having so much space to themselves was uncomfortable. It look less than a week for Bucky to move into Steve’s trailer, and by the next day they had a bunk bed installed. The other trailer had been abandoned and people just started using it for extra storage since it was there.

He didn’t try to wake Bucky gently, instead he took the flesh arm that was hanging off the side of the bed and tugged hard enough so that he almost fell, but gentle enough that he could catch himself in time. The awakening was rude and very unpleasant, but so was waking up to a hand in your face. Bucky spent the few minutes after that rubbing his shoulder grumpily and getting dressed, it wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Within ten minutes everybody was dressed and ready to go for their run. They all did a few stretches separately before taking off at a steady pace. Before long Steve and Natasha were leaving both Bucky and Sam in the dust; Sam because he couldn’t keep up and Bucky because he couldn’t care less if he kept up or not. Steve beat Natasha by only a few seconds, mostly because he seemed to never run out of stamina. He’d barely broken a sweat, and it seemed like Natasha hadn’t either They caught their breaths as they waited for the other two to jog to where they were.

“Are you ever gonna actually try?” Steve asked jokingly when he saw them getting close. They both answered nonverbally, Sam shrugged and Bucky shook his head no.

“Dude, you can run like thirteen miles in thirty minutes, I don’t think trying is gonna make any sort of difference.” Sam said, trying to catch his breath. Steve only laughed.

“You think he can only run thirteen miles? You don’t know him very well. He was actually going pretty slow today.” Natasha brought up jokingly. Steve shrugged.

“I guess I got a late start.”

“Really? You should be ashamed of yourself, you should run a few more miles,” he said jokingly, “did you just run them? I’m assuming you just ran them.”

“Can you just open the door already?” Bucky said rolling his eyes, “you don’t understand how much I want to take off this fucking hoodie.” It was a warm morning, and he always tried to cover his arm when he went out in public, he didn’t like people staring unless it was during show. So his annoyance at having to wait while they bickered was justified. No one complained about his attitude, they never did and he often had a sour attitude. It was a side effect, and they accommodated for it.

Sam Wilson pulled the keys out of his pocket and quickly unlocked the door, holding it open while he waited for everyone to file in. He worked as an independent physical trainer and had his own gym he let people use for a small fee. He specialized in injured veteran work and often gave them a discount to use the building. It was a steady job, veterans came home wounded all the time. And even though he didn’t want to see that it was happening he was glad to be able to help them. It also gave him access to a pretty good amount of gym equipment anytime he wanted.

Bucky was the first one in and immediately slipped off his hoodie. He was wearing a loose black tank top underneath and had his messy hair pulled into a ponytail. He avoided any windows and the mirror wall. He never liked looking at his metal arm, the only time he could bare to was when Steve was proud of what he painted on it. He also hated his scars, but most of those were covered in tattoos. He rotated his metal arm a few times and bounced on the balls of his feet. He hadn’t really tested it out since it malfunctioned yesterday. He moved to the nearest pull up bar and did a quick set to see how it worked, finding that it worked a little better than before. He’d actually noticed it felt lighter.

Steve had come in behind Bucky and fished out a bag he kept in the locker room because no one else would. It usually contained everyones wraps for knuckles, a few first aid supplies just in case, an emergency inhaler Bucky forced him to keep in there, and some talcum powder for deadlifts. Along with some extra clothes for everyone. However the wraps were missing, which confused him. He rifled through the bag a few times to make sure he didn’t just miss them before he saw them waved in front of his face, very clean. “I don’t care how you workout you aren’t keeping dirty wraps in your bag.” He smiled up at Natasha, she was holding the the rest of the wraps in her other hand. He wrapped up his knuckles quickly and Natasha took out her own wraps for later in the ring. While he worked on the punching bag she kept up her flexibility on the bars before moving upstairs to use to wrestling equipment. Stretching becomes more difficult the more flexible you are. While everyone else can warm up with a few toe touches she’s stuck doing oversplits for a slight stretch. She practiced on the rubber, humanoid dummies for a while, waiting for everyone else. One by one slightly sweatier men found their way up stairs and to the wrestling ring for their daily matches.

They started their spar, Natasha kicking their asses most of the time. She was pinned once or twice by Steve and Bucky separately, but she always wiggled her way out. At one point Bucky slammed her too hard and she hadn’t landed on the mat correctly so the the wind was knocked out of her. But after a quick breather and a spar between Sam and Steve she was back on track. She never once lost to Sam, he was skilled. Just not as skilled as her. No one kept honest records of every ones wins and losses and no one really cared. It was more for fun than anything else.

During a short water break Natasha remembered the email she received last night from an old friend, and promptly told Steve about it. It actually made him smile at the thought and told her to tell Tony about it when they got back to the lot. And that’s exactly what she did.

“No, wait, stop. So you’re saying that that little, scrawny, five year old boy from a few years back is eighteen, graduating from high school, and expects us to remember him?” Tony shook his head as he tried to get back to work.

“First off he wasn’t five, second off he’s not eighteen, he’s seventeen, and finally you remember him.” Natasha was smirking, she was situated comfortable in a soft chair that had found it’s way into Tony’s workshop. Her legs were placed gingerly on a table beside her. She had just explained the gist of the email to Tony, leaving out a few key details for later.

“He liked science, he liked to build things, he looked like a walking twig. Hard to forget.” He said it as if it was obvious, and gave a shrug to emphasize his point.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t care about him. Just because he emailed me and not you doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s called being nice, you should try it sometime. It really helps with social things. Also I don’t care if he emailed you over me. I barely remember his name. It holds no significance. Now get your feet off my table.”

Natasha shrugged, taking her feet down and standing up. “I guess I’ll tell him not to stop by. I mean he was really excited to see you again, but if you don’t even remember his name what’s the point?”

Tony rolled his eyes and stopped working, “Why does he have to email someone to get permission to come anyway? If anyone forgot about anyone it’d be him forgetting about us. We told him he could visit anytime, no questions asked, no real reason necessary. Now he’s emailing people, you especially, to ask if he can visit?”

“Well he didn’t just ask if he could visit,” Tony raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue, “he asked if he could join the circus after he graduates. Train under me to be an acrobat.”

At that he almost flipped. “No, no, no. You do not get Parker. He is mine, and probably Bruce’s since I share. He loves science, why would he go messing around with wires and spandex?"

Natasha shrugged and moved towards the door. “Who knows? But he starts work this summer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I love seeing the hit counter go up. Also I was wondering if you had any requests for Marvel characters to appear, whether as performers or not? Along with what other pairings you'd like to see. Thank you again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more of a filler than anything else.

“If you want to work on tightropes so bad why don’t you get Sam to work with you?” Clint asked, he and Natasha were playing Vsyak Svoi Kozyri in their trailer, a Russian card game Natasha always won. There wasn’t much else to do, well there was plenty to do but neither felt up to it.

“Because Sam has his own act with the others,” she said, placing down her two cards. Sam was an aerial acrobat, he usually trained the other aerial acrobats along with choreographing the act.

“I’m pretty sure you know how to use silks and hoops and stuff. Even I know how to use them.” Clint shrugged, he looked at his hand and huffed, picking up three from the playing pile.

“That’s debatable,” she smirked lightly. She played the rest of her cards, winning the game and causing Clint to sigh dramatically. He leaned back, laying his back against the bed, Natasha had her back against the wall, her legs crossed. She gathered up the cards lazily, putting them back into the sleeve. “I’m pretty sure you like heights.”

“It’s not the heights part that I don’t wanna do.” He sighed, “you’re miss acrobatic ballerina, I shoot things with a bow an arrow and am only slightly more acrobatic than average. Plus I want to shoot things with my bow and arrow. We get one act and it’s the one thing I’m really good at.”

Natasha frowned slightly at Clint’s words. She found Clint very talented, he had taught himself to read lips and use sign language, and even to talk without a noticeable difference from a hearing person. That is until he takes off his hearing aids. On top of that he also learned Italian as a second language while partially deaf. He was skilled in martial arts and acrobatics no matter what he said and his marksmanship could earn him a place on the Olympic team if he tried.

She pushed off the wall, standing up and stretching with a sigh. The distance between the bed and the wall wasnt very big, she had to step over Clint to get to the kitchen. He didn’t mind though, he’d gotten used to cramped quarters after spending more than half his life in the circus.

He followed after her slowly, it was only a little after noon but he acted as if it was early morning. He knew that the conversation wasn’t over, plus he was getting hungry and he could probably snack off of Natasha.

When inside the kitchen Natasha poured some baby carrots into a bowl from a bag. She poured some ranch on the side and turned away when Clint reached for one. “No one ever said anything about you not being able to shoot.” She had looked at him to speak, but had kept the bowl out of reach. “You just might have to do it on a tightrope or upside down.” She smiled after she spoke.

“Okay, can do,” he was more preoccupied with trying to grab one of the carrots. He could’ve easily gotten some himself, or something else since carrots weren’t his favorite. But she had already poured a bowl and she wasn’t going eat them all anyway. He was reaching for one when she spoke again.

“You can get your carrot when you start a movie.” She replied, he groaned and leaned away, moving quickly to the dvd display case. He picked a random movie they’d both watched too many times. He put the disk in and started the movie with subtitles. Natasha sat down next to him, this time with an inflated yet unopened bag of popcorn and the bowl of carrots. She tossed the popcorn bag to Clint and sat down with her feet under her. They spent most of the day like that, watching movies and eating snacks. Every once in a while Clint would steal a carrot and in retaliation Natasha would steal a handful of popcorn. They were more comfortable and content in each other’s company than anyone else’s.

In Queens, New York Peter Parker was sitting in his room in his aunt’s house. It was a Saturday and he was reading through the email he’d gotten back from Natasha. He was nervous when he first sent it, not quite sure they remembered him or not.

When he was little the circus was his favorite thing, not Ringling Brothers. But specifically Marvels Under the Big Top. When he was little he begged his aunt and uncle to watch the performance every time it performed in New York. He’d even visit them when they weren’t performing, he’d run to them when there was trouble and he didn’t want his aunt or uncle to see. He ran to them after Uncle Ben passed away, and that was the last of it.

Four years later he’d be graduating high school in a few months and wanted to stop by for a visit, and he was glad to know that they hadn’t forgotten about him. He’d be visiting them tomorrow morning, to talk and ask about the job. He only wanted to work for a year before going to college, he wanted a break but he still felt like he needed a job.

He was sat in only flannel pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt, and he didn’t plan to get dressed today. He started flipping through the photos on his camera, starting up his editing program and editing a few, then he started doing some homework. But it didn’t take long before he just started watching youtube videos instead.

Eventually he went downstairs to eat something, and despite his earlier plans he decided to get dressed after a quick shower. His aunt was working a shift at the hospital, he wished she wouldn’t but they needed the money to pay the bills. That’s one reason he needed a better job than taking pictures for newspapers.

He thought about what would happen tomorrow, he wondered what had changed in the years he stopped visiting. He thought about what the job would do, how Tony would take to having an assistant. He had asked to work under Tony, due to their similar interests. Besides he couldn’t see himself working as a performer. He had to ask Natasha to relay the information, since he couldn’t remember Tony’s email address at all.

He packed a bag for tomorrow, nothing big. Just some money and things to entertain him on his way there, then he waited. He finished up a few assignments and started playing video games when his phone buzzed once. He looked at it, he had a text. He read it and who it was from and a smile graced his face. It was Gwen.

‘Hey, whatcha doing?’

‘NM. You?’ He replied.

They texted back in forth for a while, scheduling a date for the upcoming week and talking about random things to make each other smile. He told her how he’d be visiting the circus, the one he loved when he was little, the next day. And she told him to tell her if anything cool happened. He promised he would.

After that she said she was heading out with her family and that she had to go. The finished their conversation and Peter went to spend time with his aunt who had came home a little while ago. Together they cooked dinner and watched crappy television until they couldn’t stand the stupidity of it. They talked about life and other things, and Peter brought up how he’d be visiting the circus tomorrow. His aunt offered him a ride and he refused, saying she deserved a break.

Before too long they wished each other goodnight and headed off to bed, Aunt May told him to get some rest for tomorrow and he told her that he would.

Back at the lot the same thing was happening. They weren’t eating dinner together, they only did that on Friday nights, but they were wishing each other goodnights. Thor was back at the lot for the night, sweaty and tired but still smiling after a day of labor. Natasha and Clint were climbing into their bed, discussing the possibility of Cochlear implants for Clint instead of getting stronger hearing aids every once in a while.

Steve and Bucky were heading off to bed. They had been working out some details of their acts. What Bucky would say and what Steve would do. Sam had spent a good amount of time before bed deciding how he wanted to have the arena set up for the aerial performers and what they’d be doing exactly.

Tony and Bruce however were not preparing for bed, they both were in the makeshift lab. Working on separate projects as per usual in coffee fueled buzzes. However Tony kept getting sidetracked and lost in thought at the idea of Peter visiting. He would sit there, staring at nothing until Bruce broke his concentration with varying tones of “You okay”’s.

Eventually both went to sleep, although it was no where near a reasonable time. It seemed as if Tony’s head was just hitting the pillow when Natasha woke him up to get ready for Peter, and when he argued as to why if he was interning under Natasha, and the only response he got was a glare. A glare from Natasha was enough to get him up and ready for Peter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor drug use in this chapter

Peter looked out at the lot and took a deep breath. He remembered all the hours he spent here when he was little. He saw Natasha waiting for him at the entrance, and Tony right behind her. He held the straps of his bag a little tighter as he walked closer.

He greeted both of them, Natasha smiled slightly and Tony did nothing more than acknowledge his presence. He seemed to be messing around with his phone, and Peter’s friendly smile dropped a little. He was a bit discouraged now, not quite sure why he was ignoring him. He looked at Natasha for help and she elbowed Tony a littler harder then she should’ve. 

“Why don’t we take a look around?” She said, starting to walk further into the lot, Tony and Peter following behind. There wasn’t too much to show. The lot was just a handful of trailers circling a few benches and an outdoor gym. So most people were just meandering, anyone who knew Peter would greet him and have a quick conversation with him before moving on. Eventually Tony left his side with the excuse of needing to work on a project and it was just Natasha showing him around. That was the time when they ran into Steve, he was holding a bouquet of flowers. He greeted Natasha and talked to Peter, he was about to ask about the flowers, but before he could Natasha interrupted him by telling Steve that he needed to hurry along or he’d be late. 

They continued the small tour, which ended at the gym. Peter hopped up to sit on the balance beam while he talked to Natasha. “So... I’m interning here still, right? I mean, I know you showed me around and everything but he, Tony, seemed so... unenthusiastic.” 

“Yeah, it’s because I told him you were interning under me,” she admitted. Her arms were crossed as she looked up at Peter. 

“Wait? Why would you do that? I mean, I’m not actually interning under you right? I’m pretty sure I can’t even touch my toes.”

“If I told him that you wanted to intern under him, his ego would’ve grown to the size of a small country. We can’t have that. You’ll still work under him, but he won’t act all high and mighty. Besides he was acting like a total ass when I talked about you. He deserves it.”

“Oh... what do I say to him? Like do I tell him it was all a joke.”

“Not yet, just work with him and tell him I’m letting you do it. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

Peter nodded, hopping down from his impromptu chair, he ran a hand through his hair and decided that he should probably go. “I’ll email you when I’m free again, and we can set up day when I... I can just come back and hang out again.”

Natasha nodded, “It’ll be getting pretty busy around here soon enough. You might not have much to do.” 

Peter shrugged, “I found stuff to do when I was little, I’m pretty sure I can find something to do now.” He smiled, “I’ll see you soon.”

Natasha smiled back, nodding in response. 

After that Peter left, heading back home. He mocked saluted at Natasha before picking up his pace and jogging slightly, hoping to get home a bit earlier than he had planned. He still needed to pick up some eggs for his aunt. 

Steve, with his flowers, took the usual subway to a nursing home across town. The nurses there knew him well and greeted him with smiles when he arrived. They had him sign in, like always, and let him go back to the rooms. He passed a few senior citizens and disabled people that he’d come to know well. 

He eventually made it to the room he had come here for. The door was closed, a preference of the tenant, so he knocked on the door lightly, before opening it. 

“Peggy?” He asked walking in, holding the flowers behind his back. She had been reading a book and looked up when he entered. She closed her book and took off her reading glasses, setting them on the nightstand.

“Steve?” She smiled at him, “You could’ve called me before you came, I would’ve gotten ready.”

Steve looked at the ground, smiling shyly. “Sorry, I just thought I’d stop by. Give you these.” He presented the bouquet to her. She placed a hand over her heart, accepting the flowers with her other hand. 

“Thank you so much.” She buried her face in the flowers, inhaling deeply, “they smell lovely.” She kept the flowers on her lap and smiled up at Steve. “I was thinking, when we go dancing. We should wear our ASU’s. You always looked so nice in your uniform.”

Steve averted his eyes looking down again and forcing a smile. “I’ll think about it. ASU’s don’t seem like they’re made for dancing.”

Peggy looked down, into her flowers and sniffed again. She smiled, looking back up and seeing seeing Steve. “Steve, did you get me these? I love them.” 

He nodded, “I did, I got them just for you.” 

This happened very often, during her, Steve’s, and Bucky’s service in the military her Humvee had rolled over an IED. The entire vehicle was destroyed, some shards of metal had found their way nearly fifty yards, she was one of the only survivors. She suffered from serious head trauma, giving her anterograde amnesia. Not only that but some shrapnel had found it’s way to her lower back, rendering her legs mostly useless. She could still move them, but she hadn’t been able to go through the physical therapy necessary to regain full use.

She couldn’t access her own memories, she’d been reading the same page of the same book for years and she still thinks that next Saturday her and Steve will go dancing at the Stork Club. He’s unable to visit her on Saturdays, it breaks his heart. Her memory ranges from a few seconds to a few minutes.

It can be really stressful, and very tiring to be around someone with severe memory loss like Peggy. But he wouldn’t dare complain. He couldn’t imagine what Peggy went through everyday and he knew his struggle couldn’t even compare. He wanted the best care possible for her, that’s why he placed her in this facility. A home for those who needed a few extra hands to get through the day. 

He stayed with her for a few hours, talking back and forth and having to repeat a lot of what he said. When he left he felt weak, it had taken a lot to go there and talk to her. He blamed himself for what had happened, both to her and to Bucky. 

Bucky had slipped during a firefight, they had the upper ground. But a wrong step sent him tumbling down into the enemies hands and Steve just watched. He should’ve done something to help, he should’ve grabbed him. He heard a blood curdling scream and thought he’d never see his best friend again.

Two weeks later, he had been talking to Peggy while she was riding in the humvee, they had been discussing their plans for the when they went on leave, how they’d go dancing. He remembered it exactly, she was telling him not to be late. She ran over the IED and the phone cut off halfway through late. He couldn’t even look at her when they brought the bodies back.

A month later they saved Bucky from his captors. He was malnourished, his hair had grown a bit and was fairly messy, he’s eyes looked dead, and he was missing an arm. He was very unresponsive when they took him to be be treated. 

One more week and they honorably discharged Steve with the prognosis of PTSD. 

He headed back to the lot, he thought he’d probably work on a few tattoo ideas or do some weight training when he got there. But instead he had caught a glimpse of Tony’s trailer and knew that he had more important things to do. He could see through the windows that the trailer was filled with white smoke. He knew exactly what was going on.

He jogged to the trailer and knocked on the door hard enough that it rattled, it didn’t open at first. He tried again, and was about to force it open when an annoyed Tony Stark opened the door. “Yes?” He sounded very annoyed.

White smoke poured from the open door and the distinct smell of weed and shisha smacked him right in the face. He didn’t answer Tony, because what he saw boiled his blood. Inside the foggy trailer were two more people. One he expected, almost every time Tony smoked Doctor Banner was right there too. But he also saw Bucky, looking guilty and stoned. 

Bucky had a tiny record of drug use in the past, he’d tried it out in high school but it never stuck. After being honorably discharged he wasn’t in a good place, Steve had caught him a few times and tried to make him stop. He’d only do it once a blue moon, or he’d only be caught once a blue moon. But he had Tony, and Tony always had something on him. Bucky never did hard drugs, he couldn’t say as much for the mechanic.

He pushed passed Tony, grabbed Bucky by his flesh arm and dragged him out. He pulled him towards their own trailer but not inside, ignoring the other two for now. He’d deal with them later.

“Do I even have to ask?” Steve berated him as if he were a small child.

“It’s perfectly legal for medical reasons.” He tried to defend himself.

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath, cringing at the smell coming off of Bucky. He knew anyone of them could have a medical marijuana license for the plethora of problems they had. But he knew that they didn’t, at least Bucky didn’t. “I don’t want you doing that.”

“Steve-”

“No, listen to me. It’s dangerous for you, it’s dangerous for me. It’s illegal, and the last thing we need is trouble.”

“Steve.”

“Our job is to entertain families, to entertain children. What message is that going to send when you walk around smelling like weed?”

“Steve!” He raised his voice, and pushed Steve giving him some space, “you don’t fucking understand, okay!” Steve was shocked, and Bucky calmed down quickly, subdued by the drugs. “It’s just all jumbled okay, it all hurts. I just want a break.”

“Bucky?”

“No, no, I want you to listen to me. You- You didn’t get tort-” he couldn’t finish the word, “you didn’t go through what I did okay. So just, just... it’s hard.”

“That doesn’t mean you do stuff like that. It’s illegal, it’s dangerous, and it’s stupid.”

Bucky didn’t respond, he just glared and walked off into the trailer. Steve immediately regretted it, “Bucky.” But he was already inside the trailer. Steve didn’t follow, instead he went back to Tony’s trailer to talk to the others.

The door was closed again, and this time he opened it without knocking and covered his mouth, pulling a glassy eyed Tony out. He reprimanded him, along with Bruce. Telling them both how it was illegal. Bruce was the only one who had a license, and talked with him about the whole situation.

“You know, if you’re so upset, I won't let James do this again. But I know Tony better than most people, and he could be doing a lot worse. A lot more dangerous. He won't do anything during the on season or when the rest come, I promise.” 

Tony had a very bad history with drugs. He had used for a good portion of his life. He’d been to rehab more than school or work. He was rich and could worm his way out of any drug charges. He cleaned his act up a bit when he joined the circus, but not completely.

“If you wanted to smoke you could be less obvious about it. You were hot boxing your entire trailer. Not very discreet.”

“I don’t have to be discreet, it’s only us in the lot.” Tony retorted

“No, there was a high school student here earlier and in about two days all the other performers coming. Get your shit together.”

Tony had needed to get his shit together ages ago. When he was born. When his parents had died, leaving him to take care of everything by himself. When he spent a month half conscious in a casino. None of his past efforts to fix himself and get his shit together had worked, and he was pretty sure that Steve’s words wouldn’t either.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being a week late. I was very busy and so I decided to post it this week. And next week expect to get the next chapter.

“Okay now do a backflip.” Natasha said. Her and Clint were practicing on the slackline. The day was warm and they both had shorts fit for rugby players on. She had a thin t-shirt on, while Clint had taken his off ages ago. 

“I don’t think I’m there yet.” He was balancing pretty nicely and could even perform a few slackline tricks, but he was positive that he would fuck up if he tried to flip.

It was morning, after the usual workout session which Bucky had been absent from. Natasha had felt a little nauseous during the spare session and after a lot of convincing from Steve she decided not to strain herself and sat out from the spare. She had thrown up once already and decided that today would be a good day to familiarize Clint with tightropes and slacklines while allowing herself to relax.

“If you go make me some ginger tea then you don’t have to flip right now.” She must’ve caught a stomach bug or something, that was what she thought. And tea would most likely help. 

Clint moved more gracefully than he had before when he got off of the tightrope and jogged to their shared trailer. Natasha sat down on the mat with a sigh, rubbing her stomach gently. Her back was against one of the posts holding the slackline. She closed her eyes for a few moments. 

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Bruce was talking.

She opened her eyes lazily, “I’m fine.”

"Steve told me you threw up, I need to check on you.”

“It was just something I ate that disagreed with me.”

“Can I ask what? Because if you're actually sick you can be contagious, which isn't good considering we start touring soon."

Natasha recounted all that she ate before giving in and letting Bruce do a quick check up on her. She didn’t show signs of being sick, and nothing that she had eaten had caused such a reaction before. There was only one reasonable answer. 

“I think you should take a pregnancy test and take it easy for the time being."

"A pregnancy test? I think you're mistaken."

"Natasha, I might not have a doctorate in medical science, but I do know quite a bit. And I'm pretty sure I'm right. And if not you can rub it in my face. But I still suggest that you take a test."

She stood up pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can't possible be pregnant. That shouldn't be possible." 

"Well it is, accidents happen. Now just take it easy until you’re sure. If it comes out positive just tell me and I can tell you all you need to know."

"Alright... Thank you."

Bruce left with a quick nod and a small smile, and Natasha stopped him before he could get too far. “Don’t tell anyone, not yet.”

“Doctor patient confidentiality.” He smiled a little wider and actually left this time. Natasha didn’t stop him.

She sat back down, thinking about what she was going to do. She placed her hand on her stomach and felt a mix of disgust, confusion, and a little anger bubble up inside her. She was distracted from her thoughts when Clint came walking up with two mugs in his hand, one with a tea bag tab hanging out. 

He sat down next to her and she could tell he had made some instant hot chocolate for himself. She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged, “I couldn’t find the instant coffee okay.” She looked at her cup, breathing in the warmth. She blew on it lightly to cool it before sipping it.  
“Thank you.”

Today most people were either practicing in the outdoor gym or working out the small details of their acts. Tony however was working out the details of a show. Currently the show was blocked at about two and a half hours with a fifteen minute intermission half way through. He just had to trust that they could make routines that lasted for their allotted times because posters were going up and there was no time to change it.

The rest of the performers and roustabouts would be coming soon. The roustabouts later, since Tony made the setup and layout of the stage very simple. Natasha was in charge of the entire gymnastics routine, Sam Wilson was head of aerial and taking some of the weight off of her shoulders. Natasha would tell each head of each subdivision what to expect and they would do what would be needed. 

Reed Richards, head of gymnastic contortionism, had been emailing Natasha over the simple fact that his contortionist weren’t trained to do aerial and they’d have to stop by soon to condition for that. No one was quite sure if the aerialists should contort or if the contortionists should learn how to perform aerially. 

“Can you explain to me why you even want the contortionists to become aerial. They’ll outshine my aerial. They’re stupid, gross hyperflexibility and sway back.” Sam was eating a cup of ramen noodles as he spoke. They had discussed this before but with the show so close they needed to finalize the details.

“Tony wants Steve to help transition us from gymnastics to tesla coils and we want to clear as much space on the ground as possible.” Natasha replied, it was late noon and she had pushed the earlier events of the day into the back of her mind.

“Just Steve?”

“All the daredevils but I think Steve’s the only one moving on into the tesla coil.”

“Hmm, can the daredevils interact with the contortionists? Lights up on some skinny people wrapped around muscular people in an inhuman way.”

 

“That’s already been planned, they’re going to have a short interaction. What we have to decide is if we want them to go onto hoops that’ll be lifted into the air or just have some already in the air. You’re aerialists can do their job, I’ll make sure of it. They’ll get silks, hoops, even ropes if the want. The contortionists get hoops and they’ll probably only be able to do the scorpion while hanging.”

“If that’s it why do I have to teach them anything.”

“Sam, you’ve been doing this for a long time so you might’ve forgotten. But getting on a metal hoop for the first time hurts like hell.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam was watching as the contortionists practiced with his aerialists. The aerialist showed a few simple moves, like how to get into the hoop smoothly and how to spin, before showing off with a few more complicated moves like drops and hangs. 

After a few hours the routine was set. The aerialist would double up on hoops, and a few contortionists would as well. The contortionists had brought their trailers and would be training for a few hours everyday leading up to the show.

Sam was sitting in one hoop when everybody was dismissed. He was idly swinging and playing a random game he downloaded on his phone when Natasha came to talk to him. She gently hopped onto a hoop besides his before speaking up.

“I need your best gymnast, one with really good balance and flexibility.” She said abruptly.

“And why do you need one?” He had glanced up from his phone to see who it was before looking back at his phone. She wasn’t looking at him and he was listening anyway, no need for proper conversation etiquette.

“As an understudy just in case. I’ve been feeling a little sick recently.” 

“The show’s still a mile away, whatever you have will blow over by then.”

“Just in case.”

The lot was beginning to come alive, with performers coming alone or in groups and filling the lot. Or at least it was about to. Recently a few more people had stopped by and would be staying, Matt Murdock was be one. He was a big attraction and a huge daredevil, tying a blindfold over his eyes and performing dangerous feats. It was easy for him to cover his eyes and go about doing crazy stunts since he was legally blind. He carried a walking stick and often wore sunglasses. 

He was discussing the plans for their part with Steve when he found out they’d be on almost the whole time.

“We have to tell a story. It’s no longer bring someone on, watch them do a trick, and go on with the next one. We have to make it flow to keep the audience interested. Like they do is Cirque du Soleil”

“I’ll need at least an hour before each show to get a mental map of the set up if I can’t do it between acts..”

“The sets change.”

“You’re just fucking with me now aren’t you?” It was said in a joking matter, and they both laughed in response to it. “How about, each time the sets change I’m warned. With a beep or a change in the music, I don’t know. I’ll get a feel of the sets before hand, each one in order, so I don’t trip and fall in the middle of the act. Any shin high platforms?”

Steve wanted to nod, and had even started to before realizing who he was talking to. Instead he replied with a simple “Yeah, a few.”

Matt cursed under his breath, before realizing something. “Wait, if we have to tell a story what’s going to happen with your friend Bucky? I mean he’s mainly used for introducing acts and what not. Is he finally becoming a stuntman?”

“I’m not sure, he hasn’t really trained and you need some knowledge of acrobatics at least.”

Steve had heard very little about telling a story. And wasn’t quite sure how it would work. So many acts were just showing off, most of the stunts were just showing off. He was also exhausted at the idea of being on for most of the show. Their work can be very taxing and he didn’t feel like overworking himself, it could cause a major problem with all his underlying illnesses. 

They talked casually for a few hours before Steve gave a short tour of the lot to Matt. It changed each year since they pack up their trailers and leave. They parted ways and Steve was heading to his trailer when something darted by him and behind Bruce’s trailer. It was too small and too fast to be a person and he thought it would be a good idea to check it out. He walked over to the trailer and ducked low to see four dark paws. He rounded the trailers slowly and found the largest dog he’d ever seen. He wasn’t able to place the breed, it liked a lot like a great dane but not exactly.

He wasn’t sure if the dog was friendly or not, so he clicked his tongue to get it’s attention while he was a good distance. The dog turned to him and cocked his head, it looked happy with it’s tongue lolling out. He extended his hand slowly and the dog neared him, sniffed it, and licked it. 

He pet the dog slowly and didn’t see a collar anywhere. When he retracted his hand the dog looked confused and got closer to nudge the hand. He walked around to the front of Bruce’s trailer and knocked on his door, the dog following behind him. 

The door opened a few second after he knocked, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap. His shirt was big and he was wearing pajama pants.

“I found this by the back of your trailer. Is he yours?” Steve asked point to the dog. Bruce studied the dog for a few seconds. Steve hadn’t seen the dog before, but he knew it was a he a few seconds after seeing it.

“I’ve seen him around for a while, he hangs around my trailer a lot and usually comes by when you guys go for your runs... I’ll take him though, I’ve grown a little attached.” He walked out of the trailer and did the same thing Steve had did earlier. Getting the dogs attention, letting it sniff him, and petting him.

“Think you can get a collar for me if you go to the store? I’ll pay you back.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

There was a list posted in the lot. Everyone would write something they wanted or needed down along with their name and put the money in the old coffee container with a slit cut into the lid. Once a week someone would go to the grocery store and buy everything all at once and get to keep the change. 

“What’re you going to name him?”

“He’s pretty big, sort of a hulking mass.... Hulk, sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head for a very long time. And after a long process of rereading and asking for opinions I finally decided to post this. I plan to update every other week. I do hope you like it.


End file.
